Lurking in the Shadows
by Ms. New York
Summary: The painful thing any human being has to endure is perhaps surviving after a loved one is deceased. I witness the ones that are left behind, crumbled among the jigsaw puzzles of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.


**Lurking in the Shadows**

I have been around long enough to know that the human race fascinates me. For so long have I been taking the souls of humans when their lives ends and you would think I would know everything about the human race. But the reality is: I do not. And perhaps I never will, but I can live (or exist if you will) with that I suppose.

I have seen all sorts of way that humans die: from accidents, medical conditions, murder, an act of God to the event of one taking their own lives. Now, I know living can be very complex. I've seen the cruelty of humans in its worse form unimaginable but somehow many people fight on. But for those I take, who have taken their own lives have all murmured to me: "The pain… it is gone". These people I mourn most of all.

Now, war is perhaps the second worst thing that people die from in my opinion. I have been present for ever fallen soldier on the battlefield. Each one taken away all because of some power that a country needs to dominate. These men (and occasional women) did not ask to fight, rather were force upon. In my opinion if someone wants to fight and have that desire need to kill, why can't they do it? Why hide behind their own citizens forcing them to fight for the cause they so desire? Questions like these never leave my mind. My heart (yes, Death has a heart) grows heavy.

People's interpretation of me is way off, speaking of my heart. I do in fact wear a hood, yes a black hood but I do not carry a scythe. I find that extremely tacky. Honest opinion, it is already enough to face death but why scare a soul even more by carrying a big knife? I would be terrified. Another thing: I am in fact not a skeleton. People see me the way they want to see me, but it is certainly not scary. I come with one simple task: to take you away from this earth. Not to scar you, not to intimate you, but to lead you. We will talk, or be silent. I follow the lead of the soul. If I find them friendly, I ease their pain and frighten demeanor and talk to them soothingly. It is only then do they know that I am nothing to be afraid of. I do this with children. The death of a child, like it is to a parent, it is unbearable to me. Such a young life taken away too soon. They were robbed of everything, I know. It breaks me; cripples me for a little while. I cannot dwell on this anymore, dear reader. I hope you understand.

I observe many people close to death but I do not take them until there is no will left. At one particular unit during this "Korean Conflict" I lurk in the shadows and observe how these people keep going. I'm sure among some of them (and I do not suggest everyone is suicidal; but you, reader, have got to admit that it passes the human mind from time to time) death has in fact crossed their mind. To escape the wounded and the shelling and the never ending pressure that is put upon them. Going home yes is another thought but sometimes people give up on that thought. It has been so long that they forget what home is so it no longer takes over their thoughts. Even letters or packages do not bring it back. Anyway, as for this unit, they do not act upon these impulses. Yes, a few have looked at the bottle of pills in their labs or observed the bottles of alcohol questions and yearning for a peaceful sleep forever. But that does not happen. These people keep going and continue to do what they do best: saving all the lives they can.

I wish though, that many people at the other units around them would follow their examples. Too many times have I lifted the troubled and tormented souls because temptations have gotten the best of them. Honestly, who can blame them? As mentioned the pressures of war is a never-ending battle. You enter it, but you can never escape it. I've seen elderly men from the first "World War" (really, what isn't a "world war"?) who still relive their combat days over and over. I've seen some locked away from society because the flashbacks of that place take over their being. It takes away identity without warning and without regret. And the victim can only sit and stare into the abyss slowly slipping insanity.

You see, death is not the painful thing human beings endure. The painful thing any human being has to endure is perhaps surviving after a loved one is deceased. I witness the ones that are left behind, crumbled among the jigsaw puzzles of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

T unit that calls themselves the "4077th M*A*S*H" deal with this every day. Let's face it; they do not save every life. I stand in on their operations and applaud their dedication to the human life. But sometimes, they have to give that life to me. For I know when it is time and when to stop fighting. By the time this staff figures it out, I have already gone with the soul leading them to their destination. They mourn and have to carry the weight of the dead but somehow, they move on and carry on. This unit, still gives me the satisfaction that yes, in fact, there is some type of hope in humanity. Gives me hope that one day, I won't have to take life so immaturely, especially during times of war.

***I was inspired for this story from the book "The Book Thief". If you have a chance, please read this book! It's fantastic and a tear jerker. I've stolen some quotes from it. As usual, I apologize for my tardiness. Haven't quit my story "Desires"; I'm trying to get some ideas, any suggestions would be great! P.S. to my dear friend Emily** (hippiechick2112)**: thank you for being amazing. 3 **


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